Welcome to another update. I hope you're sitting comfortably.
This one is a little shorter than the last, and the next chapter will be short to cut at exactly 100,000 words on my word document. I'm wondering if I should keep going on this story, or make a new one and split it into two stories now the worst of the drama is out of the way, but I think it would be better to remain as one story...I dunno.
Anyway, here's another update. For FAXers reading this, the FAX is kicking off a little more now, so I hope you enjoy this and the next update.
Also...question. what would be the general reaction to me writing a lemon, or would you rather the lemon was implied and wasn't physically written? It wont be too soon that this comes up, but I was just wondering, so I can work it into the plot or whatever.
Anyway, thanks, and enjoy :3
Thoughts and Feelings
Since money had been tight for so long in the Martinez household, they had an extensive collection of gift boxes that saw the light of day around Christmas time. For birthdays, since they were spread out and cost less, wrapping paper would be bought, but for Christmas the boxes were a cheaper option. Until then, they were tucked under Max's bed, waiting to be used.
Max always bought the most presents, buying for the whole family, so she got first use of the boxes every year. Now all the presents were boxed and labelled, the remaining boxes were to be placed on Angel's pillow, the designated wrapper for the rest of the family, and then the remainder would be tucked safely back in Max's room til the following year.
While they were stacking the presents in her closet, Fang had asked if he could stay another night. He didn't want to leave Max on her own just yet, and he was rather enjoying living in the Martinez household. The kids seemed to have adjusted to their Father's death much better than either he or Max had expected. They'd been playing Monopoly rather loudly since they returned home, almost as if nothing were any different to every other year.
He was delighted Max told him he was welcome any time in their house. He got on well with the kids and, despite the slight chance he would murder Iggy in his sleep, they all seemed to enjoy his company. Once all the boxes were packed away and the remainder were stacked to be taken into Angel's room, she offered him the use of their shower and her towel, which he gratefully accepted.
Dropping the empty boxes on Angel's bed, Max stayed in the room only to fish a pair of joggers from Iggy's wardrobe, so Fang could use them as pyjamas. With that she slipped back into her own room and laid the trousers out on her bed. Fang had already locked himself in the bathroom and she could hear the shower beating loudly on the tiles next to the bath, meaning he'd wasted no time in washing off the last few days' dirt and grime.
She found his clothes folded neatly on her pillow. Smiling slightly she slipped her shirt over her head. She's already decided the food shopping could wait til tomorrow as she dropped her shirt haphazardly onto Fang's tidy pile, planning to wash them tonight and hang them up to dry. Next she slipped from her jeans and dropped them on top of her shirt, pulling a drawer open to fish out a pair of pyjamas.
A glance sideways and she caught her reflection in her vanity mirror, bent over the drawer in just her underwear. She straightened and the top half of her body overshot the mirror, leaving just her stomach, a few ribs and the tops of her thighs to be reflected. Her ribs stuck out under her skin, causing it to curve inwards rather sharply to cover her concave stomach. Her hip bones also jutted out of her frail frame before her skin swept down over her thighs, which were barely any thicker than her calves.
Whether it was just baby weight, or she had always been like that Max didn't know, but Brigid had been better built than her. While Max's hips were barely any wider than her ribcage at its largest point and she remained a B cup in bra size, Brigid had curves in all the right places, and her breasts had been an easy two, if not three, sizes larger than Max's meagre pair. She turned to the side and scrutinised her thin frame again, counting the ribs she could see and running a finger along her prominent collarbone.
Was being this thin attractive, or even normal?
Before she met Fang she had no inclination to worry about being attractive, but now I was playing on her mind. A few more seconds studying her figure and Max decided she didn't like herself this skinny. Being able to see that many ribs so clearly made her feel a little sick. She made a mental note to try and eat more and returned to fishing out a camisole and a pair of shorts for pyjamas.
oOoOo
In the bathroom Fang had just turned off the shower and was roughly towel drying his hair. After thirty seconds he wrapped the towel around his waist and ran a hand through the matted mess on his head, glancing into the mirror.
The glass had steamed up with the shower. Wiping off the condensation with his forearm, Fang tilted his head to study the scar under his left eye. It was still vividly noticeable against his tan skin as he ran a finger along its length, tilting his head the other way to study the mark on his right side. It had almost faded to nothing, along with the bruise he's sported after Nudge's accident.
His Step-Father had decided Fang had told the girl to go on her own, and not bothered to walk her to her friend's house. That required punishment via beating, and that was exactly what Mike had delivered. Most of the marks were on his chest and back, easy to hide, but the bright shiner on his face had been impossible to cover.
He had put it down to people at school. Thankfully, Nudge had believed him.
Studying the rest of his body, Fang was glad to see the other marks had also faded. The massive scar on his inner thigh was still just as vivid as the one on his face, if not a little more ragged, in no way a clean cut line. All of the other bumps and bruises he had acquired, however, were as good as gone.
He ran his hand through his hair again. While he liked to keep it longer, it was beginning to reach past his shoulders at the back, meaning it would become a pain to maintain in the near future. He hoped he had enough money left for a haircut left in his wallet as he unlocked the bathroom door, heading back into Max's room to find his clothes.
Pushing the door open, Fang froze in the doorway. On the other side of the room, by the dresser, was Max. She had a tiny pair of shorts on, similar to the pair she had answered the door in so many weeks ago, but in a soft lilac colour with a white trim. He'd walked in just as she raised her arms over her head, letting the light material of her matching camisole float down over her bare back, covering the breast her angle was allowing him to view.
Fang ducked back out of the room again, hiding behind the door, his hand still on the handle. His heart-rate had shot through the roof and he felt like taking a cold shower as a blush spread across his nose and began to warm his cheeks. This was a very familiar sensation, one he had experienced most times he'd seen Brigid, and one that intensified every time she had spread herself naked across his bed.
He shook his head vigorously, dispelling growing images of Max without her camisole or shorts, her hair scattered around her head on the pillow like a halo. The warmth such images created shot through his body and he shifted uncomfortably in just her towel.
Brigid. He had never loved her, just craved her. The infatuation he felt around Max was something he had never experienced with his ex, who used to invoke feelings like this every time he saw her. He'd lusted after her, and he got her, but he should have seen she would never have stayed.
Chancing a look back in Max's room, he was glad to see she was now fully clothed, even if the shorts and camisole combination didn't leave much to his imagination. Confident she hadn't seen him, Fang locked himself back in the bathroom and turned the shower temperature way down.
He'd deal with this problem the old fashioned way, and hope his mind could behave for the evening.
